


crawl into this space inside your mind

by knitbelove (ladymac111)



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Aftercare, Biting, Dom/sub, Light Bondage, M/M, Quarantine, Vampire Sex, covid mention, monsterfucker 4 monsterfucker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:55:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28304898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymac111/pseuds/knitbelove
Summary: Simon and Baz have sex on Christmas morning that gets a little intense.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 11
Kudos: 106





	crawl into this space inside your mind

**Author's Note:**

> For Gabe, for the 2020 Secret Snowflake Exchange but not
> 
> I was DELIGHTED with your prompt. I really hope I did this justice in your eyes, I’ve been learning so much from you and others in the NSFW chat! I am very contentedly vanilla IRL (and currently extremely single) so this was a fun challenge in stepping outside my comfort zone and experience.
> 
> I am not going to get into Baz's baggage with biting people or Simon's issues with sex, for the purposes of this story those are both being dealt with in a healthy way and the boys are learning to thrive. This is also not meant to be at all instructional, just kinky fun fiction about trust and monsterfucking.

Christmas morning 2020  
BAZ

It’s been 278 days. I’ve been counting. 278 days since I went into my office to work, since I saw anyone in person besides Simon who wasn’t wearing a mask. I’m sure I’m immune to the virus, but better safe than sorry, and I’d condemn myself to eternal damnation if I was inadvertently a fomite and infected him.

It’s … had its ups and downs. Forced intimacy must, I’m sure. But we’ve been on an upswing in December, since Simon’s leaned into baking and I’ve taken the liberty of making every inch of our flat festive. He’s still like a child about Christmas, that joyful wonder in his eyes at the lights. He even forces me to go outside, to take a walk with him every evening through the neighbourhood: masked and bundled and carefully distant from anyone else, strolling the streets and seeing what’s in the neighbours’ windows, holding hands through our gloves.

Christmas morning dawns sunny and cold. I’m curled against Simon’s side and he’s sprawled across the bed in the sun puddle, like a cat, breathing softly. He smells sweet and sweaty and delicious, and maybe it’s because we’re still naked from last night, the memory is fresh and enticing, but I have the silly thought that it’s him I want for breakfast.

He’s let me bite him, twice now. We don’t make a habit of it, I’ve complicated feelings about it at the best of times, but this morning I’m feeling soft and relaxed and so in love my chest could burst. And I know he won’t let me do anything bad. I know I trust him with my heart, my life, my soul.

I shift, stretching the kink out of my left hip, and he stirs as I move to press a kiss to his cheek. “Morning, love.”

“Hrpmf.” One of his arms flops over his face, and he rubs his hand across his eyes. His wings rustle and groan against the mattress.

I kiss him again, sliding my arm across his chest. “Happy Christmas, love.”

“Happy Christmas,” he replies, yawning, and caressing my forearm gently as I hold him. “What time‘s it?”

“Don’t know.” Another kiss. His cheek is smooth, he shaved yesterday, but he doesn’t smell like his shaving cream anymore, just sweat.

He tips his head, catching my lips with his, and I sink into his warmth, the sweet flavour of his mouth. My gums tingle, and I have to focus for a moment to keep my fangs in. I pull back and open my eyes, and he sinks into his pillow with a contented sigh. “You taste delicious,” I murmur, and he chuckles.

“Haven’t cleaned my teeth yet.”

“Not what I meant.”

He cracks one blue eye at me, and I can hear and smell the flush that tints his face pink before I can even see it. And then I’m _thirsty_ , not from necessity but from simple desire, from the most delicious food in the world lying in my bed beside me, knowing I want it.

Which isn’t information I’ve ever offered him before. I’m tempted to feel ashamed but I build up the confidence I’ve found somehow, push the shame away and let myself want him unapologetically.

Simon smiles slowly, and my stomach flips over. He stretches his arms over his head, then tucks one behind his head and slips the other back under the blanket and -- Crowley, he’s certainly caught my idea and run with it.

He licks his lips and sighs as the sheets make a faint rustle at the motion of his fist on his cock, and I’m instantly rock-hard. Something is definitely special about this morning, carrying over our connection from last night maybe? He's not usually this randy right after he wakes up.

I check myself quickly -- I haven’t Enthralled him. I did it once unintentionally, and once on purpose. That was the second time I bit him, at his urging. I was already drunk on his blood and I did _something_ but I backed out before I felt like I was losing control of myself. (He told me later that he talked to his therapist about it, and I have been trying not to think about how I feel about that, but he seems fine and has been more eager in bed than before so beating myself up about it isn’t a top priority.)

“Hmmm,” Simon groans, wrenching my attention back to him. His eyes are half open, bright blue irises looking at me through those ridiculous eyelashes.

“You’re impossible,” I grumble, and he grins. “A menace.”

He raises his eyebrows playfully. “A menace, am I?”

I lower my voice to a rumble. “You should be put in your place.”

I hear his heart rate spike, and smell another flush of blood in his skin. “I, um.” He licks his lips, and his pupils are dilating despite the bright sunlight. “I think my vampire boyfriend might have to _punish me_ for my cheek.”

Oh, he is the _biggest_ menace. We’ve discussed power play, done it a couple of times but never … never in conjunction with my _power_. Despite my surge of arousal, I hold back for a moment. “You sure, Simon?”

He nods, his hand still working himself under the covers, slowly, steadily. “Yeah. I want it. I trust you.”

“And you … it’s okay if I … drink.”

He pulls his lower lip between his teeth and my mouth goes dry with wanting. “I was hoping that’s what you’d do.”

“You know there’s no backing out once I--”

“Baz,” he whines. “Shut up, I know everything. I want it, and I trust you. Now come and kiss me, you wanker.” 

I do as he says, rolling on top of him and crushing him with my mouth, my chest, my hips, letting my arousal push aside any lingering doubt.

This will be fine. This will be _good_. We’ve talked about this before, just never done it. And he wants it, and it _is_ Christmas….

He gasps as I break off the kiss, reaching for my wand. I cast sloppily, but it works; there’s a _fwip_ and a _woosh_ and a long length of red satin ribbon tumbles onto the bed, right beside where Simon’s tail is madly twitching.

He looks up at me, eyes wide. “Gift wrap?”

I summon every drop of authoritativeness I’ve got. “You’re my Christmas present.”

His eyes go even darker with wanting, and I let my instincts swell inside me, I feel the magic and the thirst and the power and I relish the sight of Simon relaxing, his eyes drooping and his perfect lips parting as he breathes heavily.

“ _Come here_ ,” I whisper. The command isn’t like using magic, it’s … different. Slightly to the left, or something. It comes from the same place down in my gut but instead of being a spark, it’s silky darkness.

Simon sits up as best he can with me straddling his thighs, scoots into the centre of our bed and stretches his wings out on either side before flopping back onto the mattress and regarding me with relaxed expectance.

I take his left wrist and bring it to my nose, inhaling deeply. Simon’s breath is shallow and his heart rate is quick and steady, pulsing his blood through his veins, calling out to me. I scrape my incisors across the thin skin of his wrist, and then tie one end of the ribbon around it.

I reach for his other hand and he’s already offering it to me, his eyes wide and watching but glazed, his lips and cheeks pink. I tie his hands together and then stretch up to fasten the ribbon to the head of the bed.

His breath is hot on my cock as it bumps his chin. I don’t let myself second guess my desire. “ _Lick it_ ,” I command.

His tongue finds my head instantly, hot and wet and so, so good. Too good for how early it is, and he whines under his breath as I pull away.

“Patience,” I whisper, kissing his temple, his cheek. I linger on his lips for several long moments, kissing him deeply, letting my lust for him grow as he thrusts his tongue into my mouth, gliding it over where I’ve not quite yet let my fangs drop.

All of my senses are tuned to his frequency: I'm on the hunt, and I've subdued my prey. It's so thrilling that I'm barely even aware that I'm fully erect. The sex is an afterthought to the feeding.

I let the instinct rise up within me, and Simon takes a sharp breath, shudders, when my fang scrapes his tongue.

Oh, his blood in my mouth!

Only a drop, but the flavour is overwhelming, sweet and rich and warm. I pull my mouth off his with a growl in my chest, and he's barely even looking at me, he's so far gone.

" _Watch_ ," I command, and his glassy gaze finds me.

SIMON

" _Watch._ " _Watch (watch)_

His face snaps into focus, dark (backlit), dangerous, enticing. His fangs gleam when he moves and the yearning to be penetrated is so strong I find myself writhing, trying to reach up towards him, to give him a vein. But he's sitting on my thighs, and he puts his hands on my shoulders, pressing me down onto the mattress, deep soft pressure heat

" _Stay_." _Stay (stay) stay put Simon, you'll get what's coming._

A breathy whine escapes my nose, and Baz smirks.

_I love you (I love you love you love love love you) bratty Snow I'll eat you (eat you right up)_

One of his hands lifts off and catches me by the chin jaw throat nails dig pinch

His face is beside mine, breath on my cheek in my ear on my neck lips nose breath groan moan (mine) (his)

Scrape burn heat _heat_ heartbeat pounding

He sucks my neck, my life gushes into him, hot hot fast magic _fuck it’s so much_

Cold gasp

He's above me again, released my shoulders but I'm arching my back. His lips are glossy, reddened, I smell like rust and magic.

He looks down, his cock is tall and beautiful and mine is right there too and he's looking at us, looking at me, and then moving.

My legs are free but he takes my knees, pushes them to my chest with strong assurance; my eyes fall shut and one hip rotates out as Baz settles between my thighs, stroking me, gentle firm loving ( _love love love love_ ) heat _puncture_

The buzzing in my ears is deafening, my heartbeat is as loud as the big bang, pounding from my chest into my groin into Baz though his heart to my heart

He pulls, and I give, and he pulls, and I _give_ I'll never stop giving never never never

My body is hot, I'm going off (I'm not going off I'm going on I'm _turning inside out_ ) the sun is on my skin and Baz's pleasure is my pleasure and the blood magic courses through us both around around around heat flame smoke magic blood iron

Baz gasps, deeply, roughly, and my lungs spasm the same, as though I've not been breathing (perhaps I haven't). There's pressure where he'd been biting (drinking _feeding I fed him l give him life magic love_ ) and our eyes meet for a powerful moment before he dips down and his lips are on my cock.

My hips jerk, a paroxysm of different pleasure. I can still feel him in my mind but it's hazier, replaced by the strong physical man sucking me, licking my bollocks, trailing his warm tongue all over my hot flesh until his nose nudges under my sack and his tongue presses inside my arse, all at once, soft and firm and hot and wet and demanding.

I moan, overwhelmed. His arousal with mine is so much, I can feel his heart beating still, the throbbing of his cock in time with the punctures on my leg, and my wrists are growing tender and pulsing as well. I pull on the ribbon, flexing my body into Baz's mouth on my arse, and he hums against my flesh.

Suddenly he's up again, looming above me, and thrusts himself inside my head

_Prey (food Simon blood magic) sex sex blood love love blood love_

And he bends over my heaving chest, scraping me with his fangs and the sting is incredible and he's in me and I'm in him, a swirling maelstrom of smoke and heat and magic

He drags himself up and I try to reach for him, to keep him in me, and he locks his pitch dark eyes on me and growls, shuddering through us both, then plunges his cock into me.

BAZ

Drinking from Simon while he's Enthralled is almost too intense, but at the same time nearly impossible to give up.

My sexual arousal gives it a good fight though, and when I penetrate Simon I see stars for a moment and have to remember to breathe. I'm all instinct now, but a different one, one I know won't hurt him. Not in a way I can't soothe when we're done.

I'm so hard I'm almost dizzy.

I thrust into him roughly, with no finesse, but we're too far gone to care about that. Simon’s wings flutter weakly, his tail tip flips now and then as he’s lost to the pleasure.

“Baz,” he whispers, and I look into his hooded, defocused gaze.

“What?” I don’t stop the motion of my hips; I don’t think I can.

“Love you,” he murmurs, slurring, not taking his eyes off me even as I jostle him roughly. His pupils are huge, swallowing up all but a thin line of blue, and his arm muscles flex on either side of his face. “I love -- I love you.”

I come, hard and fast, overwhelmed and frantic as I spill into him, throbbing, thrusting, choking on my emotions and the blood magic. I’ve never felt so electric, so powerful, and Simon gasps harshly, moaning and jerking beneath me, and I smell the hot alkalinity of his semen, the sex hormones spiking in his blood that continues to drip from the puncture on his breast and it wrenches another orgasm out of me like a bolt of lightning.

SIMON

I'm tingling all over, from my toes to the tips of my wings, electric but pleasantly so. Baz is collapsed on me with his face pressing into my cheek, his hair spilling over my arm where it's still tied above my head. The weight of him on me is _heavenly_ even if I'm sweating and sticky. I would love to stay like this for hours and hours. But I can't breathe terribly well with Baz lying on me, so several minutes is all I can really do.

I inhale as deeply as I can, and he shifts, lifting off me slowly. The rush of cool air on my skin is refreshing, and I fill my lungs gratefully. Baz grabs his wand and undoes the knots with magic, freeing my wrists; I take the opportunity to roll into him and gather him up in my arms. He presses into me again instantly, breathing raggedly against my skin, and I stroke his hair.

“All right, love?”

He doesn’t answer right away, holds me tighter. “I’m okay.”

“That was bloody intense.”

“Yeah.”

Sounds like he doesn’t want to talk. I tighten my arms around him and kiss the part of his forehead that I can reach. I feel incredible, like I’ve never been loved so thoroughly. Relaxed and boneless, but also strong. And it’s not terribly hard to not mind the come oozing out my arse just now.

I think this might have been a little more than Baz was prepared for, the blood and the Thrall and everything. He cries after sex sometimes, just because it makes him emotional, but it’s not quite like this.

I kiss him again, and he sighs. “Love you, Baz.”

He takes a shuddering breath. “I love you, too.”

“I’m all sticky, shall we clean up? I can draw you a nice hot bath.”

“Hmm.” He pushes his leg between mine and holds me tighter. “Can you do it without getting up?”

I chuckle, pushing his hair off his neck so I can twist to kiss it. He sighs. “I was always shite at spellwork. Got to do it the Normal way.”

He grumbles as he tips his face up to kiss me behind the ear; I find his lips with mine and give him a deep, lingering kiss. It’s very tempting to not go, but I think we’ll both do well with a bit of a clean-up.

After psyching myself up three or four times, I manage to pull back. “I’ll start the bath and come back to bed.”

“Hm, no.” He rolls halfway onto his back. “I think a shower instead. Help me up, my bones have gone.”

I crawl over to him and kiss him again, then climb over him and give him my hand to pull himself up out of the tangled sheets.

We don’t often shower together, but we’ve done it a couple of times after sex like this. It’s a bit awkward, but also kind of nice. Intimate but low-stakes.

He follows me into the bathroom, and as soon as the water is hot (a bit hotter than I like, but he needs it that warm) we get in. He has his back to the spray and sighs, tipping his head back into it, his hair streaming down over his shoulders.

I reach out to touch his cheek, and he leans into me, eyes gently closed, slides his hands around my waist. I kiss his chin and let him hold me as the water cascades over us both. I can feel the tension leaving him, melting down the drain.

“I love you,” I say again. He deserves to hear it every second.

He smiles softly, and opens his eyes just enough to gaze at me, and my heart swells as he whispers: “I love you too.”


End file.
